At the End of All Things
by star.everlasting
Summary: They still were just kids. Kids who foolhardily went to the ends of the earth, literally, to bring an end to Tempus Finis just because they could. They were the only ones who could. So why, why did things have to end this way? - Or, the day that Ace watched everyone he loved die around him.


I should probably mention that as much as I love to read happy stories, angst really is my forte. When I first beat Type-0, I wasn't exactly surprised to see that everyone died...thank you, tumblr, for spoilers...because someone important dies at the end of most Final Fantasy games anyway. I just wasn't expecting EVERYONE I LOVED to die. Excuse me while I wallow in sadness and write stories.

 **Disclaimer** : Type-0 doesn't belong to me.

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He heard Seven cough softly by his right leg where she rested her back, next to King and Trey. Cater shifted slightly as she put her head on his right shoulder, her breathing becoming slower. It took effort to not count the seconds in between each breath, counting until Cater left him too. Has Trey's back always been this cold? He could barely feel him leaning against his leg. This was possibly the longest he's gone without hearing the archer's voice. Just over said archer's shoulder, he could see Cinque's long, auburn-colored hair waving softly in the wind, her body resting against Trey, whose left arm had fallen on the ground next to her where it was originally around her waist. She was still, too still. To his left, Jack stirred a little, and a small, almost inaudible chuckle left him. He held Sice's hand in his left as she was slumped on Nine's shoulder.

Ace wanted to cry. He _could_ cry. But there was nothing clouding his vision, no tears stinging his eyes, no hot liquid running down his cheeks. He took in a slight breath in an attempt to say something, but nothing came.

Next to him, he felt Deuce move, heard her moan softly through the pain of it before he felt her hand cover his left, giving it a gentle squeeze. _I know. I'm here._ Hers was the last reminder that he wasn't alone, even as her hand grew colder, as her breathing began to even like Cater's had. Ace grasped her fingers, returning the gesture. _I'm here too_.

It was too quiet. He wanted to hear something. Anything. He wanted the reassurance of King's deep timbre, or Seven's motherly tone, like the times she would put him to bed after a bad dream, always shadows that he couldn't remember, when they were just kids.

They _still_ were just kids. Kids who foolhardily went to the ends of the earth, literally, to bring an end to _Tempus Finis_ just because they could. They were the only ones who could. So why, why did things have to end this way? Why were they the ones who were destined to die? Ace slowly moved, careful not to jar Cater, who was now still on his right shoulder. Through his bleary eyes, he watched the torn vermilion capes drift in the wind over the ruins of Akademia, reminded of why they decided to face the Arbiter in the first place- that there were others who could live, free of the war, even if it had cost Class Zero their lives. He thought about Jack's signature laugh and Cinque's smile as they tied the capes together, Eight securing it on the mangled window frame, marking their last stand.

Deuce's hand now felt like ice, and when Ace settled back down, he put his forehead against hers for just a moment. _I'll see you in a little bit_. He let out a soft groan of pain at his internal and external injuries, feeling the phantoma harvested from the Arbiter eat through his being, dominating, burning through his own torn and bloodied phantoma. Pulling at the miniscule amount of magic left inside of him, he managed to summon a single card into his hand. Ace didn't have to look at the card; it didn't matter what it was. Just having it was a small comfort, and so he held on tightly, feeling the infinitesimal pulse of magic that lingered on the card. It warmed his hand, if only a little. Then it started to spread, from his hand, slowly, up to his arm, then to his shoulder, then to his chest and onwards. For the first time since they settled down to rest, Ace felt safe, felt content. It felt like he was held in Mother's arms in his childhood, felt like he was laying down on the grass on a summer day at the chocobo ranch.

"Ace!"

His eyes had closed, but he heard his name being called. It sounded like someone he hadn't heard from in a while.

 _Izana? Is that you?_

"Ace!"

That was Nine, for sure. He would recognize that voice anywhere.

"Ace!"

This time, it was a tad softer, a voice full of wisdom. Queen. Ace wanted to open his mouth, to call out their names, when he felt a burst of agonizing pain, like fire ripping through his phantoma.

Then he opened his eyes.


End file.
